


Convalescence

by Caeoticc



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Other, Reader is gender neuteral, Tup survives the removal of his chip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeoticc/pseuds/Caeoticc
Summary: Tup is released to you post chip removal and you're able to rehabilitate him.
Relationships: CT-5385 | Tup & Original Character(s), CT-5385 | Tup / Reader
Kudos: 11





	Convalescence

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this an AU where he survives the chip removal because why not. It's what he deserves.

Tup came to you after surviving the successful removal of his inhibitor chip. The Kaminoans chalked up the whole ordeal as the chip simply experiencing a one-in-a-million malfunction. The chip was an integral part of the clones and their genetic manipulation, the chip was so horridly corrupted upon removal that it was a miracle he survived the operation in the first place.

He did, but not without consequences. 

He suffered from seizures, an obvious but debilitating result of the neurological functions of his brain reacting to the chips meltdown while it was still intact within his skull. 

Along with the seizures came other health issues; constant migraines, unbearable bouts of nausea that resulted in vomiting, vertigo, and increased bouts of anxiety. 

Such diagnosis led to him being expelled from the Grand Army of the Republic, as he was no longer fit to serve, nor could he be trusted with any sort of blaster or firearm. 

While the Kamanoians unanimously voted to have him decommissioned and dissected, you brought up to the Jedi counsel that you needed a secretary within the medical ward, and thus began the campaign to keep the discarded, but viable clone from being ultimately terminated. 

You were over the moons when the Kaminoans dropped their campaign, and Tup would come to join you and Kix in the medical ward. 

Kix was deployed wherever the 501st went, leaving you on base to upkeep the health of the many others that came and went. You had help, of course, medical droids, as well as other clones, and even some civilian medics that worked for the temple. 

You became familiar with Tup after Umbara, after Krells’ execution. He was rather close with Dogma, who was still being tried for the murder of the traderious Jedi master, he was a loner for some time after that. 

He cozied up to you after an extended wait period, he made great conversation, was personable, and very sweet considering what he had gone through previously. 

You kept track of him whenever he was sent out with the 501st, as he was usually accompanying General Skywalker, Rex, and Fives. Whenever the batch would touch down, you both often got caf in the chow hall, and you’d both share what the other had missed during the time you were separated. 

So it wasn’t a surprise to anyone why you campaigned so vigorously for his life. While it was considered almost ‘taboo’ to befriend the clones, it couldn’t be helped. He took to you and you took to him almost immediately. It didn’t go unnoticed, and many didn’t appreciate it, but as a medic, you couldn’t not become close with the men you cared for. 

When Tup was finally released to you, he was ill. Having been held in a medical facility on Kamino since the removal of his chip. While the Kaminoans prided themselves on the strict and near ‘perfect’ health of the clones they created, Tup appeared to simply be discarded, and left for dead. Since that’s what they initially wanted from the get-go. 

He wasn’t gaunt but paper white, he trembled terribly, and was barely cognitive due to exhaustion. 

He spent a good while in the infirmary to get his vitals back to normal, he was connected to multiple IVs that left his arms and wrists bruised to shit. It was a struggle to balance the medications he required to assist with his seizures, while not overdosing him to the point it counterbalanced with the medication for his migraine and nausea. 

It was tricky, but you managed, and Tup simply smiled and joked with you the entire way through. 

You discovered the cause of his seizures after hours of imaging exams, bruising of the brain, which meant the seizures were chronic and untreatable, but manageable on medications. 

The physical and mental recovery was grueling. 

He had his good days and his bad days when you were in the process of stabilizing him. Some days he suffered no seizures, and other days it was between 2 to 3 a day, accompanied by nausea and nosebleeds. On the harder days, you sat alongside him in his room, gently scooping your fingers through his hair to soothe him while you pushed opioids through the IV line in an attempt to alleviate overwhelming pain that radiated in his skull and neck. 

He cried a lot during those days, and it was all you could do to sit with him and hold him, promising that the medication would hit him in a minute, then he’d be able to sleep. 

Reintroducing him to solids was scary, to say the least. Clone troopers were already on the leaner, more muscular side. He had lost a grand amount of weight and muscle when he was brought back to you, and the liquid diet that sustained him during his trial on multiple migraine medications didn’t help at all. Some days, he’d end up regurgitating the liquid foods, which left him on a vitamin drip for much longer than anticipated. 

After a few weeks, the feeding tube in his nose was removed and he was able to eat comfortably without the fear of becoming ill afterward. Soon after his color, as well as his vigor started to come back. Much to your relief. 

He was talking as soon as he came back to you, but he only really started talking in full sentences after the persistent migraines were alleviated. His eyes were opening up again as well. 

With the vocalization came the ability for him to let you know when a seizure was coming about. Though they were now few and far between now, it gave you a few seconds to a few minutes to prepare for the onslaught. You were overjoyed to observe the seizing time was almost cut in half, and the migraines and nosebleeds weren’t as intense post-seizure. 

Once he was up and about, you both had formed a system for his seizures. When he felt one come on, he’d notify you and you’d both head off to your office. Where you’d both properly tend to his episode.

He moved in with you not much later, having been close friends prior, and him no longer being associated with the GAR, it was a simple process to move him into your flat. You had two bedrooms, after all, and it was easy for the both of you to commute to base. 

His increased bouts of fear and anxiety were completely out of your realm of expertise, so you end up referring him to an off-base therapist who did absolute wonders for him and his condition. 

He came to work with you ‘officially’ 9 whole months after his release from the facility on Kamino. Needless to say his first day as your secretary was simply him being held up in your office by his brothers ( Kix included ) while you made your rounds. You simply stole your data-pads from your office and worked in the break room so they could all catch up.

You couldn’t have been happier to see him healthy, and up to par once again. 

_________

Oh Stars did you feel terrible for him, however. 

You glance over at him while you sit against the headboard of your bed while he sits half on the foot part of your bed, your attempt to stifle a look of pity failing immediately.

“I’m sorry.” You put forth, deactivating your holo-pad and setting it aside.

The rattling noises that came from the medication bottle Tup was shaking came to a swift stop as he looked up and over to you with an instant look of concern and worry. 

“For what?” He offers, his right hand filled with a cluster of pills he had shaken from the container. 

“For that,” You motion to his hand, then to the collection of pill bottles he had braced up against the outer part of his thigh.

“You’re so young, you shouldn’t be on that many medications.” 

You hated it, seeing him separate the endless concoction of pills into his daily pill holder. He did this every month. It had become routine, at the end of every month, after he had taken his load of medications for the night, he’d sit with you in your room, and separate his medication for the next month while you both talked about whatever would come to mind.

He enjoyed it, and you did too. 

He had seven to be exact. Seven pills he had to take twice a day, leaving him with 14 pills daily. Two to control his seizures, one for nausea, one for his migraines, another one to control his blood pressure to limit his nosebleeds, one for his stomach, and one for his anxiety. 

You had bitten your tongue, but as the months passed it only came to jab at you more. 

He simply shakes his head, his lips pulling at the sides when he chuckles at you, “You’re not the reason I have to take these, don’t be sorry.” He turns back to separating his medications right after.

Technically you were the reason he was taking them, but that rebuttal was simply not worth the debate it would bring. 

Tup was thankful for you, hell he told you and thanked you daily for the time and effort you had put into his care. 

“Still...” You reply, curling your legs up under yourself as you sit up from your position on the bed. 

He begged you for months after for him to find some way to repay you for what you had done for him, you declined each and every time. Which led to a few heated arguments, but after some time to cool off and reflect on both sides, the issues quickly blew over. 

You didn’t think it was possible for the both of you to become any closer than what you already were. Oh no, that wouldn’t have been good. You had seen him at his worst; sick, dying, spent. 

But you wouldn’t let yourself feel anything more for your secretary. Your friend, and your secretary. 

He screws on the top of the final bottle before clicking closed the individual slots that hold the multiple pills, “You’re the reason I’m still here Y/N, I’d take more if it meant your efforts on me continue to not be wasted.” 

You’d do it again. You’d do it a thousand times over if needed. 

You spent the majority of the time with him in the infirmary, you only went home to change out clothing and shower. You slept in the unit with him on a portable cot. 

You didn’t want him to die. You didn’t want him to be alone like he had been back on Kamino.  
On the nights he couldn’t sleep, you stayed up with him, talked to him, held his hand when he couldn’t relax. 

You lost sleep when he had to be intubated because he had seized so hard and for so long that he had to be induced into a medical coma. You lost your voice that night when you cried on Kix’s shoulder, thinking you had lost him.

You didn’t.

Your feeble attempt to not catch feelings for the trooper failed. And failed hard. 

He had gone to reorganize his cluster of medications in his room before he came back to yours, climbing into your bed to sprawl out in the empty space beside you. 

“Thought you said you didn’t like cuddling.” You tease, staring down at him from your upright position. 

“I don’t,” He retorts quickly, a smile sitting at his lips as he drapes his arm out across the bed, motioning for you to take to his shoulder. “But I like you, so c’mere.”

Eyes rolling, you mock a disgruntled groan before scooting over towards him, laying your head on his shoulder, your arm draping over his chest, resulting in you gently stroking at his side only moments later. 

It felt like he slept in your bed more often than in his own. And you were alright with that.

It took his therapist some time to regulate his medications, after trying him on a few that resulted in horrid nightmares, they had finally found one that worked. But he still slept in your bed from time-to-time. Just because. 

After a minute, once you got comfortable, his cheek rested against the top of your head, his hand setting at your hip. 

You both fell asleep like this more often than you’d care to admit. 

Oh, but you loved it. 

“Hey Tup?” You mutter, eyelids half closed.

He grunted out a small, “Hmm?’ in reply. 

“You know that I’d do all of this again, right? Without hesitation.” His hand gently squeezed at your hip, the other lifting from its place at his side to set gingerly on your forearm. That was answer enough. 

You laid against him for what felt like hours, listening to his breath even out as you bounced between sleep and cognition. When he stilled, and his breathing was evened, you peeled your eyes open and turned your head upward to look at his face, his cheek still pressed up against your head. 

You shouldn’t have done that. You’ve seen him rest before, countless times, you’ve watched over him when he slept to ensure his vitals held steady. He slept alongside you for months, yet this was the first time you really allowed yourself to look at him. 

He was beautiful like this. Calm, at ease, with small bits of black hair falling into his face from the small bun he still wore. 

Young, resilient. Just a tad bit stubborn, even. 

You love him. You loved him and you shouldn’t, but you do. 

You were so preoccupied with brushing the flyaways from his face that you don’t realize you said it aloud. Not until he turns, and slings his other arm around you, his knee slipping between your knees as he resituates, scaring the absolute hell out of you. 

“T-Tup!” You stammer in a vain attempt to gain control of the situation, “I thought - You weren’t-” 

“I wasn’t.” Fucking bastard was half awake this entire time. 

“I love you too.” Oh Stars—

It might have taken you a moment to process it, but when you do, you ease into his hold, and you bring it upon yourself to cling to him in return. Relieved, though you’re sure he could hear your heart clear as day. You could. 

A small mumble is heard from your shoulder a few moments following, “I’d love to go in depth but . . I have a headache. Tomorrow?” 

Headaches lead to migraines, and migraines lead to nosebleeds. Oh shit. 

You nod, your fingers trailing over his back, just as you’d do while he was in the infirmary. 

“Tomorrow.”

You lulled to sleep some time later, leaving Tup a free moment to peck you on the cheek before following suit into unconsciousness as he held you as close as he could manage. 

‘There’s always tomorrow.’ He’d recall you telling him whenever he wasn’t having one of the best days in regards to his health.

Tomorrow couldn’t get here any faster.


End file.
